Double Rat
by The Grimmerie
Summary: Mr. Orange is given a partner to help him on his task. The saying goes that two heads are better than one, but can the same be said about two rats?
1. Chapter 1

The diner was one of Holdway's favorite places to meet with his detectives. Usually moderately full, you were able to have a conversation without fears of being overheard, yet be at ease that having the sort of chats he and his underlings had would not gain suspicion from onlookers. Today, this would bee extremely important. Just a few days ago, an anonymous tip came from a man in the Caribbean that there would be an attempted heist on a local diamond wholesaler. Over a hundred million dollars worth of stones just there for the taking. Well, not if he could help it. As the new police chief of the station, he felt that he had to prove himself to the local precincts, and busting the heist of the century was just the way to accomplish this.

His fingers drummed lightly on the diner table as he waited for Detective Nuendyke, a young, ambitious officer, to arrive. He swore the boy had to have a death wish to willing take such an assignment, going undercover in a group of infamous criminals. But who was he to complain? At least he didn't have to put some unwilling man with a family on the job. Plus the ones with ambition always seemed to do a little bit better than the more seasoned vets anyway. Like himself, they felt that they had to prove themselves to the rest of the station.

With his mind on such thoughts, a man slipped into the other side of the booth across from him, folding his hands on the table. "You rang, Holdway?" he said in his usual, casual tone. As with most of his men, it was strange to see them out of the office, his usual uniform being replaced by a pair of faded blue jeans and a football t-shirt. His hair was not slicked back like it usually was on the job, but was parted casually down the middle, his sides framing his forehead in almost a heart like manner.

"I did. Glad to see you showed up. Now let's get down to business." He said, leaning across the table slightly and lowering his voice. "You said you wanted to accecpt this assignment, and this is what it entails. You're going to go undercover."

"That much I fucking know already."

"You're going to become one of the thieves who you are trying to bring down." Holdaway continued as if he hadn't even heard Freddy's interruption. "To do this, you're going to have to learn to put on quite a fucking show. You're gonna have to earn their trust, to locate their weaknesses, and when the time comes, fucking exploit them." Holdway explained. "You think you can handle that?"

"That's why I'm here, right?" was Freddy's confident, albeit cocky resonse.

"Good. Because no matter what you think, buddy, this ain't gonna be easy."

"No shit."

"So that's why you're gonna have a partner on this one."

Freddy's eyes widened in shock. There was no fucking way he was going to work with a partner. He worked alone. It was safer that way, especially for him. On more than one occasion he had found himself in a fucked-up situation because the man who was supposed to have his back had slipped up along the line.

"And Detective Anderson, your partner, should be arriving any moment.

_Great. Just fucking great._ Freddy thought, his eyes focused on the diner entrance, looking for signs of anyone who he might have seen around the station. He really didn't talk to many of the other guys there; he just did his job, went home and slept, work up the next morning, and returned to work. With all his luck, it would be some bumbling rookie on his first case who would end up blowing their cover and getting them both killed.

"Just please tell me this Anderson fellow isn't some rook whose going to fuck both of us over." Freddy pleaded, hoping that his boss would disprove his latest worry.

"Oh, I'll let you determine that one for yourself." He said causally, a small smile flickering across his face as he said those words. "And you won't have to wait too long, because she's here now.

Freddy looked up from the chief. Standing in front of him was a lady that he had never seen at the prescient before. Dressed in a professional skirt suit, her auburn hair was pulled back at the base of her neck with a simple clip and left to fall in a straight group down her back. She was a stark contrast to the other two men at the table, both of whom were wearing jeans and t-shirts.

"Chief Holdway. Nice to see you again." She said coolly, extending out her hand.

"Same here, Detective." He replied, shaking her hand. "And I would like to introduce you to your partner on this assignment, Detective Freddy Nuendyke." He paused as Anderson acknowledged the other man with a slight incline of the head. "Detective Nuendyke, I would like to introduce you to Detective Christina Anderson."

"Nice to meet you." She replied in the same, professional manner that she had used with her boss, offering her hand to her new partner.

_Couldn't say the same thing on this end._ Freddy thought as he lied between his teeth. "Likewise." He said, scooting over slightly so Christina could sit down.

"And now that we all know each other, we can continue. Christina, I believe I briefed you already." He said, his comment being made with a nod of acknowledgement from the lady sitting across from him.

_So she already knows what the fuck is going on._ Freddy thought, _Just fucking wonderful_ "So since I'm the only one who doesn't know what's going on here, how about we stop the chit chat and give me the damn information.

Christina shot a sideways glance at her partner, only furthering the anger that he felt towards both her and Holdway. Out of all the detectives on the force, why had he chosen a woman? He was going to send him into a situation with thugs with this twig for back up? He might as well shoot him in the fucking head now because if he entered that job with her in tow, it would probably be his death.

"I was in the middle of doing just that, but you kept rudely interrupting me." Holdway replied, narrowing his eyes slightly at the young detective. "Now both of you two have a lot that you need to work on. Christina, we're gonna have to get you some more physical training. I don't want you going into a room full of fucking dicks without being able to protect yourself. You're one of our best at blending in, but you were never that fucking good with a gun."

A rueful grin spread across the female dective's face as she heard these words. "That's because I've hardly ever had to use my gun." She told him, "You usually don't when people don't figure you out until it's too late for them."

"True, but I'm taking no precautions on this one. You're to receive more physical training. And Nuendyke, you're awesome in the field, but you're as transparent as a window sometimes. If that happens while you're with these guys, you're gonna blow your fucking cover. We'll work on that." He said, stopping his little speech as a waitress approached.

"And can I get you all something all to drink today?" she asked, her voice rhaspy and sounding as if she had smoked her fair share of cigarettes in her younger days.

"Coffee, please. Black." Replied Christina.

"I'll have the same."

"Same here."

"Okay, then. I'll be right back with those." She replied, he gaze straying a moment too long on Detective Nuendyke. Christina seemed to notice this and gave him a small wink. What it was supposed to mean, he didn't know, but he took it to be some sort of insult.

He opened his mouth to make some sort of retort, but before he could think of anything suitable, the waitress arrived back with the coffee. Handing each of them a steaming glass and leaving a pitcher on the table, she returned to her rounds, yet again staring a moment too long upon Anderson's new partner.

"Now to get back to business." Holdway said, taking a gulp of his coffee. "You two are to help each other out with these little training sessions, 'cause once you enter their world, you two are all you've fucking got. One of you screws up, you're probably both fucking dead. And I don't want to have to fill out all that paperwork." He joked, extracting a small smile from the two detectives seated at the other end of the table. "So now, I'm gona leave, let you two get to know one another a bit more. If you're gonna be working together on this, you might as well get used to being around one another." With that, the older man drained his cup of coffee, placed some cash on the table, and left the diner.

Once her boss had left, Christina slid over to the empty side of the booth. "So." She said, "So far all I know is your name."

_And all I know is that I got saddled with a partner who is going to fucking get me killed_. He thought. "Yeah. Same here." He replied.

"So, what brought you out to LA?" she asked, "Where are you from originally?"

"Originally, I'm from Massachusetts." he said. "Went to school out there, traveled around a bit, and found myself out here, working at the precinct. What about you? What makes somebody like you become a cop?"

"Long story short, it's a complicated story. Some guy killed a neighbor of mine when I was younger, and I guess you could say that I just wanted to make sure that nothing like that ever happened to a little kid again."

"So you left some town to come to LA to be a cop?" he asked, trying to understand her logic.

"Well, it seemed as good a place as any." She replied with a shrug of her shoulders, raising her coffee cup to her lips. Her eyes were still locked on Freddy's, her gaze just as impassive as it had ever been. It was one of the rules she had always lived by: never take your eyes off of anybody you've just met, that's how you end up getting stabbed, shot, or raped.

"Married?" Freddy asked. It only seemed like a normal question to ask. After all, who would take such an assignment if they had somebody to go home to?

"Nope. Guess you can say I'm married to my job." She joked, "How about you."

"Your words about summed it up for me." He said, the actual first hint of a smile coming across his face. "Well, at least that gives us a little strength." He said, "We don't have to worry about our families as we go out on this mission."

"Too true. Isn't that why we took it? A chance for unaldurtered glory?"

"Guess you could say that." Freddy replied. At least he was stuck with a partner he could somewhat hold up that basics of a conversation with. The last guy he had been stuck with was always so fucking quiet, and when he did speak, it was so unnerving that he didn't know how to respond. "But what was your specialty? From what Holdway said, you're quite the little actress." Freddy couldn't help but grin as a small patch of pink appeared on her pale face.

"Usually, I'm the person they send into a situation to gather up information. I guess you could call me a rat of sorts, because I get people to trust me, tell me their secrets, and then I go and run them to my superiors." She explained. "But what about you? What's your area of exerpertise?"

"Mostly undercover stuff. Drugs, guns, stuff like that." He explained. "Why I'm so good with a gun." He added as an afterthought with a grin.

"Then I guess you're going to have to do as Holdway said and teach me some of your tricks. After all, I have to have your back when we go in there, right?"

"You better have my back." Freddy said, "Because I'd hate to be you if you didn't."

These words made Christina chuckle slightly. "Well, if you want to kill me, you're just going to have to take a number and get in line. Half of the prison wants to do me in for placing them in there, so you'll have quite a wait before you get your turn."

Now it was Freddy's turn to laugh. "You're really that good, are you." He teased.

"Even better than rumor says." She winked. "I guess the same could be said about you."

"Yeah. Guess so." Freddy said, his eyes wandering to his watch. Was it eleven o'clock all ready? He had to wake up for the early shift tomorrow, and it was never a good thing to show up tired. "Gotta go." He said casually, first shift tomorrow. Don't want to piss the chief off because I spent all night up chatting with you and showed up to work tomorrow a zombie."

"Guess you're right." Christina laughed, "Holdway's a nice guy, but I wouldn't want to anger him." As she spoke these words, she slid out of the booth, walking towards the door. She was almost outside when she heard a voice behind her.

"Oh no you don't." Freddy said, walking up beside her. "With your nonexistent skills with a gun, there's no way in Hell I'm letting you walk outside in a dark parking lot by yourself. Are you asking to get mugged, you're a prime target." He said, eyeing her tailored suit. "And honestly, as much as I dislike working with a partner, I really don't want to have to go through the trouble of getting to know another one."

"Fine. I wouldn't want to inconvience you by dying." She said, a hint of sarcasm dripping into her voice, allowing him to open the diner door and escort her to her car. Opening the door for her, he saw her safely behind the wheel, then closed her inside. "I'll see you tomorrow at the office. If I'm not busy, I'll bring you out to the shooting range. Get you some practice in so I know I'm covered out there in the field." He said.

"Sounds like a plan, Detective." She replied, giving him a small, polite smile as he walked across the lot to his car. Following him along the way, she waited until he had shut the car door behind him. As she slowly passed by, she stuck her head out the window. "Just wanted to return you the favor." She said as she left the parking lot and headed towards her apartment on the other side of town.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun filtered through the curtains of Christina's window and landed directly on her eyes, providing her with the not so welcome awakening that came every morning. She never wanted to get up, yet she knew that if she didn't show up at the office on time, something was bound to happen that would require her assistance, meaning that her ass would be grass because of her tardiness. It had never happened to her before, but she always had the lingering feeling that someday it would. But it was the beginning of her morning ritual, the ritual that she had followed for the past two years since she moved to LA.

After clothing herself in yet another tailored suit, she made her way to the small kitchen in the corner of her apartment. Like the rest of her quarters, it was modestly furnished, reflecting how much time was really spent in the building. A few personal mementos here and there, but not many, and no photographs. In fact, the rooms were designed to look as generic as possible, for while Christina spent quite a bit of time in the city, it would never be home to her. No. Home would always be back in the small town in Vermont where she grew up, the small town she abandoned once she graduated from high school.

The final piece of her morning ritual was in its final stages, the therapeutic drip of the coffee maker bringing Christina to her senses. There were few things in her life that ever stayed the same, but this was always one of them. No matter what happened, this part of her life always remained the same. The soft dripping of the coffee stopped within the minute, leaving Christina to pour herself a cup of coffee and head for her car. Another day was about to begin.

It was strange, being one of the only females at the station. When she had first started out, it had caused her a lot of troubles, but now at twenty seven years old, Detective Anderson had learned to hold her own in the testosterone driven environment. Heck, most of the time her lack of a dick helped in most situations. Especially when it came to talking to certain people about certain incidents. The phrase _would you like to talk to a female officer_ had become synomonous around the station for it's time to drag Christina out of her office and let her handle yet another awkward situation.

_Men._ Christina chuckled as she made her way towards her car, _One of these days, they'll grow the balls to get over their own insecurities and step outside of their little box. I'm not always going to be there to fill in for them._ She didn't know why she thought this; Christina Anderson had no intentions of leaving her current prescient for a while. Why should she? She had only been there for two years and was already established as one of the best undercover detectives in the area; if only she could shoot a gun halfway decently. But, as she had learned during her years at the academy, nobody was perfect; you just had your strengths.

The time that passed between her first sip of coffee and her arrival at the station was uneventful. She managed to avoid much of the traffic that the city was infamous for and pull into the parking lot five minutes earlier than usual. She did not have one of the earlier shifts today like Detective Nuendyke, but when she arrived at the station, she was greeted by the five people who occupied the building at that time of day. She didn't really speak to many of them, although there was one officer there who she was on friendlier terms with than the others: Officer Marvin Nash. He had been at the precinct for ten years he said, and was a combination of a brother, friend, and mentor to the detective. It was he who taught her how to drive in LA traffic, and he who taught her how to tell off the other guys in the station when they overstepped their bounds. Upon seeing him, a small smile spread across her face.

"Good morning, Marvin." She said in a genial tone that many at the station went weeks without hearing, "How's little Dave doing?"

"Anxious to see when his auntie Chris is going to come over and visit again." he replied. "He tells me to tell you that he misses you."

"You mean he misses me spoiling him rotten." Christina corrected him.

"Well, that too…" Marvin trailed off, a small grin spreading across his face.

"What's so funny now? Did I spill coffee on myself or something?"

"It's nothing like that." Officer Nash explained, 'It's just funny that a lady like yourself doesn't have kids of her own to spoil."

Christina sighed, facing yet again an all too familiar topic. "As I have told you time and time again, I am too young for marriage, children, and all of that stuff. Right now, I'm just focusing on my job. And that's the last time we're going to discuss this manner. I'm quite content with being Auntie Chris at the time being."

"And you better damn be content with that." A voice said behind the two chatting friends. "'Cause there's no way I'm losing one of my detectives to maternity leave."

"Thank you Chief." Christina said, glad that somebody was actually taking her side for once. While she had the respect for her work with the men at the office, rarely did they listen to anything that she had to say, especially if she was serious. Most of the time, she was just the lady who was called when something went awkwardly wrong, or when something was just plain awkward. Her field assignments had been highly successful, but at the same time highly simple and she was restricted to office work most of the time. After all, she was a sympathetic character, and you needed every one of those that you can get in a police station, especially where they were located.

"And now I suggest that you get to your office. There are some documents in there that I want you to read."

"Yes, sir." she replied, as she walked down the hallway towards her office. It was off of the main hallway, a nice little quiet space with a few reinforced windows along the back wall. Like her apartment, there were no personal touches adorning the walls or the surface of her desk, the only outside influence being a calendar that hung on her wall with a nature scene for every month. Most of them reminded her of home, and helped relieve any feelings that the young detective had of ever wanting to return to her small home town. She had left there to lose herself in something greater, and on her way across the country, she had found it.

Taking a seat behind her small, metal desk, she reached for the manila file that was placed in the middle of it. Carefully opening the metal butterfly clasp at the end, she let the pile of papers slide into her hands, tapping them gently against the edge of her desk when she had them all. It was not uncommon for the detective to find such files on her desk; it was part of the job. Usually, though, they contained mountains of paperwork that had to be filled out and given to the proper authorities outside of the station before the end of the day. The file in front of her contained no tedious forms that needed to be filled out. Instead, from what Christina could tell, it looked like a plan of action, a story that she was to stick to while she was on this job, details that would help her out when she went undercover, and hopefully help her get out of there alive.

Her eyes scrutinized every word on every page, placing it in the most secure part of her memory. Forgetfulness of the rules was a prime way to get yourself shot out on a job, and the last thing Christina wanted to do was me a mytar for the cause of justice because she screwed up and did something stupid. No, Christina already knew that if she was going down, it would be in a blaze of glory and with no fault in the situation of her own, she would make sure of that. It was the way everyone at the station joked about going at the station. Everyone knew that what they were doing was dangerous work, yet there was something about it that kept them all there. For some, it was a feeling of accomplishment, for others, it was the power, and still for others it just made them feel good that they were making a difference. But for Chris, it was knowing that she was helping to prevent something horrid, something that nobody should ever have to deal with.

But while she knew that memorizing the information in that packet could help save her, it was not all that could be done to prevent her death and the death of her partner. No, yet again, it was a matter of acting, taking up the role of another person so believably, that not even her fellow officers would know who she was when they saw her on assignment. Her fingers deftly leafing through the pages, she found the section that she had been looking for: the story, _her _story. Yet again, her eyes scanned down it, but unlike the last time when she was going through all of the papers, a small, amused, smile spread across her face. Sitting up a little straighter in her seat, she began to speak the words on the page.

"_...And then the damn bastard flunked me, just like that. All because of that paper. What did he know about the intellectual art of committing an act that was against the law? Nothing. I bet the ass had never even remotely out of line, except stare at his female students, fuck knows the dick did that enough. _

"_I left the college the next day, term paper in hand. If that asshole didn't see the beauty of it, I would bring it to those who would. Through the campus's database, I found the names of several released convicts from prison who might see the light in what I had written. Don't ask why the fuck I did it, because even I don't know that much. All I know is that I wanted somebody to tell me that I was right and who better than a guy who had just gotten out of prison for doing some of the stuff that fell under the category of genius? Nobody, that's who. I went to one of the guys, he must have been around sixty five, Old Man Dan, and they called him, just released from the pen after serving twenty years for armed robbery of a jewelry store. Now, there was somebody who seemed interested in what I had to say. Absorbing ever word of my paper, he saw the genius in what I had to say and offered me a position in his network. Who was I to refuse? _

"_You know the job at the Tiffany's in New York? That was all my planning. The timing, the orchestration, all my genius. We got away untouched, each with our own cut of the job. I had tickets to fly down to the Caribbean, lay low there for a while. So I caught a cab, my bag filled with stolen jewels, including some god ugly tiara that you would have to be stoned to wear, and made my way through the airport. And then I came to the baggage screening counter. I thought I was screwed. One look inside my bag and they would know that something was up. Placing my bag on the conveyer, I tried my best to keep my cool. If worse came to worse, I could always make up some cock and bull story about somebody taking my bag instead of their own. The suitcase was generic enough, so it just might work. As I waited in line to go through the metal detector, I saw my bag coming closer to the point of truth. Something would go wrong, I just knew it, so I did the only thing I thought would save me, I pretended to faint. _

"_You see, such a feat is not that hard to accomplish, and if you do it right, you might actually black out. From years of training to get out of class when I was in high school, most of the time my little shows actually turned into the real thing. This was just another example. The security officers came over and dragged me over to a chair, and some doctor who was on my flight revived me. In the commotion, my bag made it through the scan without being noticed. Assuring the men that I would be fine, the security officers escorted me onto the plane, and one of them even put the bag with the stolen goods in the overhead compartment. From there on, it was smooth sailing. I cashed in the gold and the stones, and lets just say that I had an interesting time while I was down in the tropics."_

As she finished reading her little script out loud, the sound of applause could be heard from her doorway. Leaning up against its case causally was Detective Nuendyke, an amused grin on his face. "Bravo, dear lady, bravo. Please, tell me where you learned your skill." He joked.

"Oh, that. It's natural." Was Christina's dramatic reply as she flipped her hair over her shoulder in a highly prim Dona fashion. The dramatic edge was soon replaced by a small grin of her own. "Plus, while I was in college, I was a part of the theater club. Not strange, really. Half of the criminal justice department was part of the club. We said it helped us with our lying skills."

These words drew a laugh from both parties. "From the way you told that little lie of yours, I can see what you mean by that. They'll buy it for sure. It just doesn't seem like you, though. The whole bitchy act."

"Yes, but I won't be me when I say these words, I'll be Allison Lynksey, criminal justice dropout. A highly different person, I can assure you. She's just a character, a girl made up to serve a purpose, and once the job is done, she will no longer be needed and will be discarded. I won't be able to use her again, so why not shock the world with her while I can?" True, it wasn't the best explanation in the world, but it was the best she could come up with at the moment. It was a wired thing to explain, how to become somebody else. In Christina's mind, it was a talent that some possessed and others did not. Simple as that.

"So, you're saying that you're an actor." Freddy said, amused.

"An undercover cop is an actor." Christina said matter-of-factly, "Well, at least a good undercover cop is."

"Then what is a bad undercover cop?" Freddy asked, interested in the conversation.

"Dead."

This one word made Freddy stop in his tracks. Why was it that she had to say this? Was it to make him feel like a dead man? It would not be the last time that he heard those words, he knew it, but it still gave him a sense of foreboding. He couldn't lie to save his life. And to live a lie, such a concept was beyond him. The silence between them echoed for a while longer, until it was broken by a word from Freddy.

"So. I came by to see if you wanted to go to the range to practice, Holdway says you're going to need all the practice you can get." Now, it was his turn to tease, his turn to instill a sense of fear in her. Hell, if she couldn't shoot a gun, then she was fucked. And he would be damned if she died because she couldn't shoot, and he would be even more damned if he died because she couldn't shoot.

"Just let me put these papers up then." She replied coolly, sliding them back into her folder and locking it in the center drawer of her desk. "As long as we have an ambulance on standby, I would be more than happy to go."

----------------------------------------

There was no ambulance at the range. In most cases, there was no need, but it was just a personal joke between Christina and the rest of the officers at the station that there was a need for such precautions whenever she was in close proximity to a firearm. She had passed the test at the academy solely because of luck, and it was a wonder that none of her instructors died in their little hands on sessions.

But today would be different. Chris knew that she could not afford to make a mistake in the upcoming weeks. Her life, and Freddy's life, depended on the combination of both of their abilities, and if one of them faltered, it could be both of their demises. So she promised herself that when she agreed to go with Freddy to the shooting range, that she would at least make some semblance of progress. After a car ride of silence, the two arrived at the range and were now standing in one of the lanes, looking down at a paper target at the other end.

"Okay, Christina. Shooting is more of an art than you think. It is 75 mental, 10 aim, 5 timing, and 10 instinct. You have to be in the zone to hit that target; you have to forget everything else and focus all of your energy onto that small circle at the end of the range. Clear your mind of all other thoughts except the bull's eye. Close your eyes, visualize it." His eyes darted back towards Christina. "You're not focusing on your target." He said with a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Rolling her eyes, Christina closed her eyes, trying not to think about how stupid it was to focus on something that she couldn't even see. If the situation were different, Christina would have pretended to visualize, but now she knew that the stakes were much too high for such things. Her brows furrowed together as she tried her hardest to make the image that she could not see solidify in her mind.

"Can you see it?" Freddy asked patiently.

"Vaguely." Christina murmured in response.

"Good enough. Now open your eyes. With the image of the bull's eye still in your mind, take your pistol and raise it to the target. Use the image in your mind to aim your weapon, taking special care regarding accuracy. There is no need to rush, timing is not important at the moment.

As he spoke, his colleague followed the directions he had given, raising her pistol so it was level with the target, her eyes focused on the center of the target in the distance.

"Now, shoot." Freddy whispered. A single bullet came barreling out of the firearm and down the range, and the sound of a fluttering paper could be heard in the distance. "Now let's see how you did." He replied, pressing the button that makes the paper come forward. A small hole was present in the left of the target. In the shape of a human, the shot would have hit towards the shoulder. "Good." He said, nodding his head. You have just immobilized your opponent. Usually, a shot in the arm will suffice, but when able, you want to…"

"Shoot them in the leg so they will drop to the ground to tend to their wound." Christina said, rambling off what she had been taught at the academy.

"So, you did learn something in your training." Freddy grinned.

"You mean besides how to BS my way through anything." Christina said, returning his grin.

"Okay, then. Now let's try something a little more complicated." A new sheet was attached to the wire and sent back down to the edge of the range. Walking down the aisle, he held up his hand to Christina, signifying that she was to hold her fire. From where Chris was standing, she could not see exactly what Freddie was doing, but from the looks of things, he was pressing at least one or two buttons. She knew this was not going to be easy. As her colleague started to walk back up the aisle, the paper target at the end of the range began to move from side to side, sometimes in an easy, paced swing, occasionally being jerked to one side or another. Christina shot her partner an irritated glance. Why on Earth did he have to make this difficult for her? In all likeliness, she wouldn't have to shoot a target a mile away that was being jerked wildly from side to side. It just wasn't going to happen.

"So now we're going to work on your timing." He explained.

"I can see that much." Christina snapped. She hated people treating her like she was a child. Explaining things to her, making her go through stupid visualization exercises. If this is what success on their assignment meant, they would both probably be dead.

"No need to get pissy on me, detective. I'm just trying to help you out."

Christina didn't know what it was, maybe it was how he had said those words, the sense of confusion in his voice, but for once in her life, Chris felt guilty about her little snap. Her head inclined slightly as she mumbled an in cohesive form of an apology. In return for this, Chris got a small incline of the head.

"This is more difficult, for you must learn the motions of the target. You must learn their pacing, or lack of it in some cases, and then you must use your own instinct to know when the time is right. At the moment, we have all the time in the world, so just watch the target, observe its motions. See how it sways from left to right, and then jerks to one side or another. Focus on its motions, try to predict where the target is going to move next. When you feel that your aim is sure, pull the trigger. There is no need to rush. This is more about accuracy than it is about speed.

Her eyes glued on the target, Chris tried her hardest to predict its movements, which in itself was an impossible task. For a moment, she swore the target was stationary. Her finger reacted, sending a bullet flying down to the other end of the range. She would hit the target. But before her eyes, she felt her confidence fade away. Jerking suddenly to the right, her bullet skirted the lower corner of the paper, completely missing the outlined form. The line of determination that her mouth had been set in turned into a scowl as the paper was whisked forward. She reached for the paper, but Freddy's hands reached it before her. As he unclipped the paper, Chris felt a hint of resentment flowing through her body. Why did she have to make an ass out of herself? Why did she even agree to come here? He was making her look like a fool. He knew that Chris wouldn't turn down a chance to practice her nonexistent abilities, and took it as a chance to make himself greater than her, to show in a very untactful way, his own abilities. She watched as Freddy's eyes narrowed on the target, observing the little tear that her thought perfectly aimed bullet had created.

"That could have been better." He said. "Your aim was good, but you were too sure of your timing, and shot a moment too late. Just a fraction of a second earlier and you would have had it."

Christina did not respond to this remark, but glared at her partner, her green eyes becoming nothing more than angry slits in the center of her head. "Easy for you to say." She said after a long silence. "You weren't the one standing on my end of the gun."

"Actually, for me, that would have been an easy shot." He said simply, "You get used to those when you work out in the field."

"So you're saying that I'm incompetent?" Chris responded, her voice nothing more than a scathing whisper.

"No, I'm saying that all those hours you seem to spend sitting behind that desk may have screwed you the fuck up!"

Christina didn't know how to respond to this. She never got yelled at by the other officers. Usually, they treated her with a sort of indifference, for she was very rarely seen hanging around with the others. The only two people she really talked with at the station were Holdway and Marvin. One respected her and protected her; the other was a close friend who treated her like family. But that was not all. Chris had never heard Freddy swear. Heck, everybody swore, but it was just to have it directed at her that was such a shock.

"Well, since you seem to think that I'm just another detective who sits around the office all day, I'll just go right back there and let it screw me up some more." She hissed, turning on her heel and waking back towards her car. If he was going to treat her like this, then to hell with him. She had asked for this assignment, not to be paired up with some cocky asshole who treated her as a child. When she reached the car, Chris stepped inside and slammed the door behind her, driving back to the precinct. It wasn't until she had arrived that she realized the two of them had ridden in the same car.

_Well, then. Sucks to be him._ Christina thought as she walked back to her office, taking a large file out of the locked drawer of her desk.


End file.
